


Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

by Alitomy



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Author Did Minimal Research About Art/Art Museums Before She Realized That This Is Fiction!, Author Knows Nothing of MoMa or New York, Gen, Joe Misses Booker, Joe Reflects, Joe and Nicky Visit Art Museums, M/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:26:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26211877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alitomy/pseuds/Alitomy
Summary: Joe and Nicky scout the Museum of Modern Art in New York and come across a painting Joe had forged with Booker by his side, causing a moment of reflection.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 6
Kudos: 150





	Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Their next job brought them to New York. 

The streets fluttered by them without so much a second glance, the pair looking like any other that was just trying to go about their day. Blending in as to not look like tourists, the men made their way to their next scouting location, the Museum of Modern Art. Their target had organised a fundraiser to occur a week from now, and they had to determine whether they could execute the plan from inside the museum, or if they had to lure the target to somewhere more private. 

Joe already knew they would have to be discreet about whatever method of demise they chose for their target. Being a high profile member of society at a high profile event, they’d have to schmooze their target before slipping a poison in his drink. Nicky wanted to see if the open ceiling had enough coverage for him to set up with a sniper, and Joe loved Nicky, but the thought of needing to use a sniper in such a famous art museum had him shaking his head. 

Hand in hand, they walked into the gallery once handing over their entry fee and were immediately surrounded with artworks. They took their time gazing at the works that they were around for their creation of, smiling at each other when they recognised themselves in a few of the paintings. 

“They were so close to getting your nose right,” Joe would mumble into Nicky’s ear as they looked over a few paintings in the Renaissance era section, but also focusing on their scouting tasks for the job. Nicky would feign thought and look up towards the ceilings in each exhibit, contemplating whether he could steadily balance himself and his sniper on the railings without being caught. 

When Nicky’s eyes drifted back down to the wall he was in front of, he noticed Joe had walked ahead into the van Gogh exhibit, staring at one of the artist’s less famous works due to the traffic surrounding _’The Starry Night’_ and _’Sunflowers’_. Noticing the solemn expression on his lovers face, he stood beside him and entwined their fingers together, bringing his hand up to press a soft kiss to the tan skin. 

“Is this the one?” 

Joe nodded. “I remember this. Booker said this painting would be easiest to recreate as he remembered the area so well.” 

Nicky watched as Joe’s inner turmoil came to light in his micro-expressions, the slight twitch on the corner of his lips, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his brown eyes lingered over certain areas of the painting. “You two did well to fool so many experts.” 

Joe’s lips tugged upwards into a small smile, turning and pressing a soft kiss to Nicky’s temple. They had had to recreate the painting, simply titled _’View of Paris from Vincent’s Room in the Rue Lepic’_ , in order to save the real one from the destruction of World War One before it was transported to New York to be put on display. Booker insisted he should be the one to paint it, having lived in Paris and knowing the exact location featured on the canvas, though Joe was always beside him adding minor details with a steady hand.

They had worked well together when the job required a forged artwork. Joe would always gather the supplies and paints needed and Booker would acquire as many references as possible in order to make the recreation as accurate as possible. Joe remembers the first time they asked Booker if he could recreate a famous painting; the poor man nearly fainted in disbelief, so unsure in his artistic abilities. 

He remembered how he had to teach Booker certain techniques that the Frenchman had not learned of, and how some colours needed to be slightly adjusted for them to look authentic enough to escape the criticism of the ‘experts’ who would scour over every minor detail to determine if the work was real or not. 

Looking at the painting hanging in the gallery in front of him, Joe could easily pick out the wrong stroke orders and how the sky was a touch lighter than the original. He always had a knack for the minor details, though they had been lacking in time and needed to quickly treat the painting and swap it for the real one. 

That had been a rough job.

They hadn’t needed to forge a painting since this one, and Joe found himself missing the man who shared his company in front of a canvas. He missed the way Booker would get lost in concentration, trying to perfect the colour or stroke, humming a French lullaby softly to himself. Creating was what seemed to bring out the real Booker, one that brought about a sense of calm, the one that didn’t feel a need to hide his emotions behind copious amounts of alcohol, his hands more steady than they were in years in fear of messing up the painting. 

They had gone forty-five years without Booker since his exile, and they all felt it. Nicky busied himself with reading literature or teaching Nile Italian, sometimes sparring with his longsword. Nile had been conflicted about Booker’s exile, wanting to keep him nearby to keep an eye on him, but she eventually understood that this time was what the rest of them needed, willing to learn as much as she could in the meantime. 

Joe, well, Joe missed the man. It was as simple as that. 

Booker had been his best friend. They’d paint, read books, write poems, and watch football together while Nicky cooked and Andy cleaned her labrys. The man had been so integrated in his life that he had struggled with the loss of him. In the beginning, Joe had turned the television on to the football game and his eyes had immediately searched for the Frenchman, only to have Nicky’s sad eyes meet his with a sad shake of his head. 

Joe hasn’t had the heart to watch football since. 

Forty-five years without anyone teasing him and Nicky about their affections was a long time, and though Nile was catching on with the help of Andy, it just wasn't the same, though they had hardly needed to go shopping for alcohol in that time. 

Joe missed his sad, alcoholic little brother, yet he was not ready to confront him. The feelings of anger towards Booker’s betrayal had diminished - a rather long time ago if he was being honest with himself - and were simply replaced with a state of calmness. Joe was willing to wait out the hundred years if that’s what the others needed, but he couldn’t wait to be by Booker’s side once more. 

“Come, my love, I think we’ve seen enough for today,” Nicky’s voice whispered softly in his ear, his hand squeezing against Joe’s before gently tugging him out of the museum. Once they were a few blocks away, Nicky pulled Joe down an alley and held him close, gauging his lovers expression carefully but remaining silent. 

A few deep breaths were taken before Joe spoke. “I miss him.” 

Hands were placed on his cheeks and their foreheads met. 

“I know you do. We all do.”

**Author's Note:**

> author has not been to new york or moma and only used minimal google searches to find artworks   
> if these artworks arent actually in moma then oops but also idc xD 
> 
> follow me on tumblr: alit0my


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